his cock flashes through my mind, but the momentary fantasy is cut short when Claire interjects, pulling me back to reality.
“I just meant for the party, Emma. Not to be his fake girlfriend because you almost got yourself killed,” she says vehemently. “Maybe this was too much? I thought it’d be easy, safe.”
I think she’s saying the last bit more to herself than to me.
I shake my head and down some more coffee. “Claire, you asked me to do this and I did. And as wild as it turned out to be, it was a success. I got you a bit of information and made the connection you told me would be your best-case scenario. Maybe I can get you even more info if I go to this dinner.”
She rubs at her cheek the way she’s always done when she doesn’t like something, but I can see the hunger in her eyes warring with her desire to protect me. It’s the role she’s always played, the big sister protector even when I didn’t need protecting. Though this time, I truly might. But as much as she’s done for me, I’m willing to risk it for her.
And for yourself, a small voice whispers, and I know it’s true. There’s a part deep inside me that wants to know more about Nathan, that isn’t reconciling the man who saved me with the one who’d kill a pregnant woman for asking too many questions.
Claire bites her lip, and I think I’ve won her over, but her conservative rule-following nature takes over. “No, I can’t let you do this, Em. Maybe I should’ve listened to Matt and left the Stone thing alone. I just couldn’t, but I shouldn’t have asked you to do it in the first place, and I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in this. But it stops now. No dinner, no seeing Nathan again. He doesn’t even know your real name, right? So just let it go.”
Dawning realization of how deep I’m in strikes. He doesn’t even know my name. It’d felt almost like his calling me Kitty had been a nickname of sorts, like a term of endearment.
But no, to him, that’s my actual name. And it’s a lie, which feels wrong somehow, though playing a role is nearly second-nature to me by now after years on the stage. But this doesn’t feel like a role, even though that’s how it started. For better or for worse, it’s something that morphed as soon as he put his hand on my head. It’s become . . . I’m not sure how to describe it.
But something else in what Claire said comes into stark focus. “What do you mean, Matt told you to leave it alone?” Matt is Claire’s partner at the FBI, and they’ve successfully worked together for several years. I’ve met him a few times, and he seems like the least-likely agent ever, which is probably what makes him so good. He comes off as a bit of a bland nerd, more IT than 9mm, and he’s a bigger rule follower than even Claire is. And I hate to say it, but the most memorable thing about him is his red hair. Past that, he’s just . . . nice.
Claire stands up, rolling her eyes and huffing. “I wanted to send someone in undercover, felt like we had enough to warrant a closer look and could potentially get some decent intel. And Matt agreed. We went back and forth, dissecting and discussing it from every angle before going to the Assistant Director. I thought our plan had merit even if it felt too dangerous.”
“What happened?” I prompt, thinking that she should’ve shared this information when she asked me to go undercover.
“The AD basically said that though Stone is probably dirty, he’s just another corporate monkey, no worse than any other.”
“Any other?” I ask, and Claire nods. “As in?”
“As in half the Dow Jones are breaking laws on the regular, but we don’t have the manpower to do anything about it, so we only go after the ones who do the really evil shit. I figure Stone is one of those, but the AD hamstrung me. I’d told Matt I was doing something anyway, going off-books, but he tried to talk me out of it.” Her eyes bug out in shock like she still can’t believe Matt hadn’t gone along with her special brand of crazy. I think of the three of us, he might be the only sane one